Destiny Averted
by AmetoMuchi
Summary: What if Hawke had died protecting their mother? The twins Carver and Bethany are left on their own without their elder sibling to find a new life in Kirkwall. Anders/Bethany, Carver/Merrill
1. Arrivals and Reflections

-1Carver

It felt like years had passed since Carver had last set foot on solid ground. It was a welcome change. As he walked onto the docks he felt thankful. Weeks of running, of doubt, and of fear were coming to an end. Though this being Kirkwall, it felt like that was just going to be replaced by more fear and hiding. Just of Templars rather than Darkspawn.

"Kirkwall, lovely." He sighed. Bethany appeared at his side, followed by Aveline and his mother. It was just them now. He had to wonder if things would be different if Garrett was here. His brother was the one always in charge, easily taking up the role their father had left. Leader of the siblings, mage tutor to Bethany, and the backbone of the family. In addition to being a complete ass who couldn't keep his mouth shut for the life of him.

It felt strange being here with Bethany without him. Carver had lived his entire life in his elder brother's shadow. Garrett was 'blessed' brother, with a natural affinity for his gift with magic. Bethany admired him for that. It always left Carver feeling left out, the only one in the family, aside from Mother, who couldn't cast a spell. If that wasn't bad enough, he was constantly making jokes and easily made friends. It seemed like Carver would always be in his brother's shadow.

Yet now he wasn't. It somehow felt wrong, like he hadn't earned it. Or that something was missing that you never bothered to notice when it was there, but can feel more keenly than anything else in it's absence. Garrett had died in the Blight, saving their mother from the soulless Darkspawn. Carver would have nightmares about that day for a long time.

"They're not letting anyone into the city.", said Aveline. She had lost someone in the Blight as well, her husband Wesley. He was a Templar, but didn't seem as interested in capturing his brother and sister. He died right after Garrett had. Carver had tried to help, suggesting that he end Wesley's suffering himself. Aveline had put herself between them, saying that she would do it herself. For some reason he felt that his brother would have made it easier for the woman. He wasn't his brother though, and didn't have his way with words.

His mother sounded shocked, "What? That can't be!" Carver was tempted to remind her that half of Ferelden had to be in the Free Marches now. Of course they wouldn't be able to get in, that would just be too easy. Aveline pointed at the crowd ahead of them, "It's true. Look at them all." There was a whole bloody lot of them, Carver had to acknowledge that.

"They're Fereldens, just like us. Fleeing the Blight.", Bethany pointed out. This time Carver was about to speak his mind, but Aveline spoke first. "And they would throw us all back to the wolves. Unbelievable." He had to snort a laugh at that. "It's completely believable. But we're not going back, I'm tired of running."

He went into the crowd, pushing and shoving his way to the front. With his brother gone, it was his job now to look after his mother and sister. He ended up almost walking into a guardsman. Carver already wanted to hit him. He just had one of those faces. Bethany was right behind him though, and did most of the talking. The guard proved Carver right in one regard at least. He did have a good smack coming to him.

It was Knight-Commander Meredith's orders that most of the refugees be kept out. It figured. Not only did they have to run to the nearest city with the most Templars, but the only one with guards answering to the bloody Knight-Commander. The luck of the Hawkes at it's finest.

Bethany

Kirkwall wasn't the friendliest city, that was probably Bethany's first observation. The people so far had been rude, and as they walked into the courtyard, she had to notice what they called The Gallows. Statues of slaves kneeling before the whips of giant Tevinter magisters greeted them, along with rows of slave statues that appeared to be sobbing into their hands.

"Cheery place.", Carver quipped. She had to agree. It was one of the few things he had said since they arrived. She knew what must have been troubling him, but now wasn't the time to drag it out of him. With Brother dead, no doubt Carver would decide that that left him as the leader and protector of the family. They were twins though, and it wasn't going to be all on her brother's shoulders. He would just assume it would be, naturally.

"I can't believe Mother grew up in a place like this. I can't imagine anyone living here.", she said to her twin. As they approached who she assumed was the guard in charge here, they overheard the complaints of more refugees ahead of them. Only these were armed. Bethany could already tell this was going to end badly.

As they came up beside the group of refugees, the guard just finished telling them that the city was full. It sounded like it was something he had been tired of repeating. Carver spoke up, "It certainly looks full. Where are all the people I wonder?" Leave it to her twin to start things off badly. She tried her best to smile apologetically, but it was hard through the tiredness and frustration. "Ser, one of the guards at the docks said that you were letting people in if they have business in the city."

For the next few minutes, more of the same happened. The other refugees agreed loudly to be let in, the guard denied them. Of course he would want a bribe from people that had just escaped the Blight with barely their lives. "Listen, our uncle is Gamlen Amell. If you find him, he can get us in.", Carver growled. Bethany quickly followed that up with, "He's a nobleman here in the city. Our family has an estate."

The guard just raised an eyebrow at that. "A nobleman? The Gamlen I know is a weasel, and just as poor as one." He thought about it for a moment and shrugged. "If he comes back, I'll bring you to him." Just as soon as he said that, the armed refugees started clamoring and complaining that they were receiving unfair treatment. They pulled out their weapons and charged the guard, dragging Bethany and the others into the fray.

She wanted to sigh wearily at the fake she was right, but didn't have a chance. Carver and Aveline leapt into battle ahead of her, taking some of the pressure off of the guardsman. Bethany took a few steps back and focused her power into her arm, and from there into her staff. It grew red hot and with an effort of will coalesced into a ball, which she then sent spiraling from the staff.

Somehow Carver had grown a sense about magic gathering from growing up surrounded by mages. He ducked his head as the blast went over him into the man in front of him. The fire exploded outwards, sending flame onto the other men attacking the guardsman and Aveline.

The shock of the heat and flames gave the others their opening, and the rest of the refugees fell beneath their swords. Everyone was covered in blood, with the exception of Mother and herself. Suddenly Bethany felt grateful for being a mage. It seemed much less sticky. "Unbelievable.", the guardsman said. He seemed to be half-stunned and half-impressed. She wasn't sure which would be worse. Carver was giving her a look that was saying all sorts of things about using magic out in the open like that.

The guardsman was grateful though, and didn't speak a word about her magic. He apologized for not being able to do much for them, but vowed to bring Gamlen to them. It was better than nothing. She felt a bit of happiness that they seemed to be getting somewhere, at the very least. Bethany still had to wonder how everything would turn out. Things would be difficult without Garrett. He always seemed to have had a plan.

Carver

The Gallows was intimidating at first, but after three days it was just dull. How long would it take their uncle to pull himself out of whatever whorehouse he no doubt had buried himself in? At least that's what Carver had assumed was taking so long. The only thing to watch now as he leaned against the foundation of a statue was Aveline pacing back and forth. They had served in the same unit at Ostagar, but they didn't talk. The pacing made Carver notice that she had nice legs though.

"It's been three days, this waiting has to end.", she eventually said. Mother was wringing her hands, a habit she seemed to have picked up since they left Lothering. "I'm sure it won't be much longer. Gamlen must still be looking for us!" He shook his head at that. Surely he was still looking for them, because they were so very well hidden. On top of the gate of the Gallows.

Bethany pushed herself to her feet beside him. "And if he's not?", Aveline asked to Leandra. Bethany took a few steps forward and shielded her eyes from the sun. "There's someone coming! It looks like Gamlen, I think." Carver moved beside his sister and watched the scruffy man walk up to them. He certainly didn't seem like a noble. So that would mean that there was something to what the guardsman had said about their uncle being poor. Fantastic.

Gamlen and Leandra exchanged greetings and went back and forth. Carver didn't pay a great deal of attention for a few moments. He came back into the conversation to hear the bad news: Gamlen was broke. The luck of the Hawkes continued. His uncle went on to inform them that he had found some people who could help. That is if they weren't "too delicate about the company they keep", as he put it.

Carver spoke up; "Great. What do you mean by that, Gamlen?" Their scruffy uncle explained that some of his contacts were offering to pay their way into the city. Carver could only guess at what kind of 'contacts' their broke uncle Gamlen may have. He went on to give them the catch; "The catch is the twins will have to work off the debt. For a year."

Garrett always said that the Maker had a sense of humor. If He did, Carver never understood the joke. He just felt like the butt of one.

Bethany

Aveline Vallen and the Hawke Twins, professional smugglers for hire. Or mercenaries. Either one, they hadn't decided yet. Neither sounded like a very appealing title to have for a year. Aveline was kind enough to go with them into whatever they had to do. She wasn't about to let others take on debt on her behave. Bethany decided, not for the first time, that she liked Aveline. She was almost like a big sister. An actually Big sister at that. Which was nice.

Normally she would have left the decision making up to Garrett, who would then decide on a course of action. Carver would argue about it out of pure contrariness, Garrett would make a joke at their brother's expense, and the plan would go ahead. Now the decision making would have to be left up to her and Carver both.

"Meeran seems an honest sort, and he isn't interested in announcing to every Templar that he's harboring apostates.", Carver said. He had been favoring the Red Iron mercenary group. Of course he would, being a soldier and all. Aveline seemed to be more comfortable with the idea also, but that wasn't saying much. She felt much like Bethany did about the two options.

"Athenril won't let anyone touch us either, Carver.", Bethany replied. "I'd rather work for a smuggler than going around murdering people for coin. Gamlen said she doesn't work with slavers. I'd rather work with her. We're less likely to run afoul of any Templars, or friends of Templars."

Carver shook his head at her. For a brother born only second before her, he seemed to get the idea that he was the more responsible one. Funny, he never showed it outside of talking to her like that sometimes. "Both are going to get our hands dirty, Bethany. If you want to work for Athenril, that's fine with me."

Bethany smiled. She was honestly expecting more of a fight from her brother on this. It was nice for things to go more smoothly than she was prepared for. She doubted it would be like that much here in Kirkwall. She turned and walked off with Carver and Aveline following close behind. Carver quipped in one last thing before they got in earshot of the smuggler however, "At least she's easier on the eyes than Meeran."


	2. Brawls and Opportunities

Carver

The beer tasted like piss. A frown reflected back from the surface. He took another gulp anyway, finishing off the drink. "Maker. Even the beer in Lothering was better than this.", Carver sighed. The Ferelden paused, and then signaled Norah for another round. He'd much rather be at the Rose with Faith, if she was there tonight. Norah set down another mug of beer, He took a drink and massaged his temples.

He expected they were still arguing at home. The Hawke family certainly had plenty of problems: Money running low, jobs being scarce, and constantly looking over their shoulders for the Templars. At least the darkspawn were a simple enough problem to solve. Despite all their troubles lately, Bethany and their mother still believed something could be built here for their family. Carver still wasn't sure about that. Tensions were rising in the city and it was begging to seem more and more like a good plan to go back to Ferelden and try to rebuild there. There'd be less templars at the very least.

He looked up when cool night air drafted in and tickled his skin. A group of surly looking dwarves were eyeing the room. There was a good crowd of similarly-unhappy looking patrons tonight, Carver included. The Hanged Man was always busy, even more than usual this late.

The dwarf standing at the lead of his group spoke up. "Anyone here know where I can find Varric Tethras?" A chorus of negative responsive, and more than a few angry-sounding drunken slurs were his answer. Varric must have been popular, because that happened fairly often. Usually whoever was met with that would turn and walk off, grumbling and slamming the door. These ones didn't. The head dwarf just frowned deeper and pushed his way further into the room. He was bald and wearing some well-worn clothes, not as well dressed as the other dwarves that had come looking for the elusive Tethras.

Still he wasn't as shabby as Carver felt lately. Having only a tin bucket and a hard scrubbing brush shared with three others would do that to a man.

He starred glumly at his half-empty beer. This would have to be his last one tonight. Money was already tight enough lately. He made up his mind that tomorrow he would go to the City Guard. Aveline had joined up with them a few months ago, it was possible he might have a chance. If she had gotten in, it was possible Carver may have a chance. It was worth a try at least. Jobs weren't plentiful since their work with Athenril had dried up.

The Hanged Man was starting to become louder; which only made Carver's head ache more. He finished his beer and left a few coins for Norah's tip. Maker knows she needed it, he couldn't imagine how it would have to be to work in this place all the time. Judging from the sounds of it, those new dwarves had either found who they were looking for or ended up picking a fight with someone. He'd guess the latter, if only because they already looked angry when they entered. It was a good time to leave.

Carver stood up and began to make his way out of the Hanged Man. Taking a long walk on the way home sounded like a good idea. He still wasn't in any hurry to return to that hole in the ground. He pushed open the door to leave. A stool hit the wall near his head. Shocked, Carver turned and looked back into the main room of the tavern.

Then, chaos broke loose.

Normally a tossed stool would just cause a lot of stares, but not tonight it seemed. The fighting was thickest near the fireplace in the center of the main room. He was pretty sure he just saw Norah smash a mug over someone's head. A couple of men were struggling with each other near him. Carver looked back at the door. He could just easily slip out and go about his night.

The two men knocked themselves over into Carver, taking him down with them. A stray punch took him in the forehead, and a kick to his shin. He growled and threw a punch over the shoulder of the man pressed against him, towards his unwitting attacker. The hit surprised him, and gave the man that was on top of Carver the opportunity to leap off of him to better get at the man Carver had just hit.

He pulled himself awkwardly to his feet using a nearby table and stomped after the two men. He lifted the man on top, the one who had been pinning him down, and tossed him through the door. The other man hopped to his feet and threw a punch aimed at one of Carver's eyes. He lowered his head, taking the blow on the crown. A crunch followed by a yell of pain came from the attacker. Carver grinned, socked him in the nose, and tossed him out of the tavern after his friend.

This was as good a way to blow off some steam as any. It gave a decent excuse to not go back home yet too, which was all the convincing he needed.

Pushing his way into the brawling crowd; he saw that at the core of the brawl were the dwarves who had entered not very long ago. That seemed like the most fun, so Carver began working his way to the center.

So intent on reaching the fighting dwarves, the he hadn't seen the blow coming from his left. The first caught him on the side of his chin. It was a good punch and sent him reeling away from the attack had come from. Another tavern patron's back kept Carver from reeling too far away, and he was able to get a forearm up in time to block another blow from the other man. A third punch made its way past his blocking arms to scuff his cheek under the right eye.

Carver found his balance again and lunged at the other man, keeping his head lowered. He tackled the other brawler while attempting to punch at his opponents ribs. Not many landed before they stumbled and fell past other brawlers and onto a table. The other man moaned curses in pain from the rough landing, giving Carver enough time to pull his head out of the other's arm lock. Looking frantically around, he found an overturned wooden mug teetering on the edge of the table. He snatched it up and gave the other man a glancing smack with the bottom of the mug before tossing it to the side. Carver wasn't interested in seriously hurting anyone, and that seemed like enough to give him time to move away.

More shouting from behind him now, he didn't look back. Carver shoved his way through a few brawling drunks and came upon the group of dwarves that seemed to have started the fight. Several of the dwarves were fighting with humans. Maybe it was the light, but he thought he saw an off-duty templar struggling with one. Even better that Bethany wasn't interested in leaving when he had.

On the ground was the bald dwarf that had seemed to be the leader of the group. If they were the ones responsible for the fight breaking out, he was likely the first to throw a punch. Or maybe he threw the stool, the idea of which made Carver much more keen to get him off of whoever it was that he was grappling with on the floor. Hurrying over to gain speed, he aimed a kick as the bald dwarf's side. It connected a bit harder than Carver had intended, judging from the curse that came from Baldie. That was enough to give the person under him the upper hand and to toss him off. Another dwarf had been struggling with him, and was getting to his feet. Carver reached down and helped him up. The dwarf muttered a word of thanks. Baldie was up and angrier than ever for the interruption. Angry enough to pull out a wicked looking dagger with a curving blade.

"Well that's just impolite," the other dwarf to his left laughed. "Bringing a knife to a fist fight." Carver nodded his head. The blade gave him a moment's pause. He was unarmed, and didn't much experience in disarming an opponent. He hadn't trained himself in that, and the army didn't consider it when they were so focused on fighting darkspawn at Ostagar. At least with fighting dwarves, he had reach. But if Baldie got in close, it wouldn't be good at all.

Baldie started towards them, somehow looking angrier now that he had a blade. Carver took a step forward, hoping he could find a way to knock the blade out of the dwarf's hand. Luckily his new friend had a solution to that: a knife flew past his left arm and into Baldie's shoulder. Carver had to wince, the knives at the Hanged Man weren't the sharpest, so that was a very good throw. Baldie yelled out in pain and grabbed for the knife in his shoulder with his free hand. Carver took that as his cue, closing the distance and landing a solid boot to Baldie's nose.

There was a satisfying crunch, and Baldie stumbled backwards. A fortunately placed bench caused him to fall over onto his rear. Carver couldn't help but laugh at that. The other dwarf, the non-bald one with the good aim, causally made his way over to Baldie, who was still shaking his head clear. "If you would have let me finish earlier, I was going to tell you that I understand completely Dougal. My brother's an ass, and nobody knows that better than me," he was saying as he gave a light punch to the knife embedded in Baldie, or Dougal's shoulder. "And I would have been willing to talk to him for you, but you're just as bad! At least Bartrand has the sense to not start a brawl." He pulled the knife out of Dougal's shoulder and placed it on a nearby table.

He was saying something else, but Carver couldn't hear it. More shouting, quite a bit more, was coming from the front of the tavern. From what he could see, the Guard had arrived. Remarkably quick too. From his experience working for Athenril, the Guard weren't fastest responders in Kirkwall. Patrons of the Hanged Man were already beginning to scatter.

A strong pull on his arm made him look down, it was the dwarf with hair. Dirty blonde pulled back from his forehead to form a high ponytail. He grinned and was holding onto a coin purse. "Those guards don't seem to be too happy, I think we better get out of this room before they get ideas in those thick skulls!"

Carver bent his head to shout back at him, "They don't seem so thick we could just walk past them out of here!" The dwarf just laughed at that and threw a thumb over his shoulder. "I didn't say we had to leave the tavern, just get out of the common room!" He didn't wait to see if the human was following him.

He kept expecting to hear metal-clad feet pound up the stairs behind him, but it seemed that the chaos downstairs was still enough to cover two men hurry up into the more private rooms of the tavern.

The room was decorated, which was unusual. The chairs were dwarven crafted, with comfy and well-worn silk pillows in the seats. Candles set in bronze holders lit the room on the table, at odds with the crude braziers set along the wall throughout this floor. This seemed like the place a person would stay when they didn't want to be at home. That was an understandable idea to him tonight.

The dwarf sat himself in a chair at the far end of the room. He grinned, set the bag on the table before him and pushed a gloved hand against his bottom lip. There was a slight trail of blood there, but overall he had come out of the fight relatively unscratched. Carver hadn't done too bad either, but his head ached a bit more than it did earlier. He wondered if the second man had somehow managed to hit him in the same spot the first one did. It felt like it.

"Thanks for the help down there, kid," the dwarf grinned and tossed a coin onto the table in front of the chair. Carver took the invitation and sat down. The cushion was nice, the chair being so hard it seemed to require it. He picked up the coin and raised an eyebrow. It was a sovereign. "Dougal just happened to be carrying quite a bit of money with him. Pretty sure some of this is my brother's." He shrugged and dusted off a bit of sawdust from one of the arms of his duster. Being on the floor of the Hanged Man for any length of time didn't seem hygienic.

He made a resigned sigh, giving up on fixing his clothing. It didn't seem that bad to Carver, but he remembered that he probably looked a bit like a mangy mabari. The dwarf turned his attention to him. "Varric Tethras, at your service. Carver Hawke, am I right?"

That surprised him a bit. "You've heard of me?" Varric smiled and shrugged, "Knowing is my business. That and talking. It helps that I've seen you here lately. You've were working for Athenril with a sister, I believe."

"Bethany.", he supplied with a bit of concern. They were still nervous about templars and trying to keep a low profile, but he doubted dwarves were as interested in reporting apostates. Varric nodded and patted the table once. "That was it. Nasty business with the Coterie a while back. Athenril was in a position to actually rival them for a bit."

They turned to the open door as they heard someone coming. It was the red-haired bartender. Carver couldn't remember the name, was it Cough? No, he didn't imagine anyone would be named that. He wasn't happy, but it would be very odd if he was. "You didn't tell us that shady dwarf was going to start a bloody brawl!"

Varric raised up his hands in surrender. "You're right, Corff." Carver blinked. That was the name. "I apologize, I was hoping Dougal wouldn't be that stupid. Here," he reached into the bag, pushed his chair back, and went over to Corff. "This should cover the damages, and tips for you, Norah, and Edwina. Do you think someone could bring up a round of wine for my friend and I?"

Corff looked a bit suspiciously at Varric, then down at the coins in his hands. He was suddenly back to his usual jovial self. "Alright then, but Maker's sake give us more warning next time!", with that he briskly walked out to presumably straighten up the common room with the other workers and whoever wasn't hauled off by the guards.

When Varric sat back down he went back to grinned. "Dougal had a fight with my brother this morning. Made off with some of our coin in the process too. I was betting that he might try something tonight, get back in on my brother's plan. So I had some guardsmen hang around the area in case he started any trouble, in which he might happen to lose his money."

Carver frowned, disbelieving. "You had the guard watch the Hanged Man? That would explain how fast they got here.." Varric laughed, "Some of them are more understanding than others. Dougal's a pain in everybody's ass."

He just blinked, not sure what to say to that. The dwarf didn't seem to mind, seemingly used to doing the bulk of the talking. "Like I was saying earlier; it was looking like Athenril's gang might have been the only rivals to the Coterie in town. Sad. The Coterie are usually assholes, and Athenril was nice enough. Some competition would have done Kirkwall good." Carver was getting tired of hearing about it. He crossed his arms over his stomach and frowned. "I wouldn't know. We don't work together anymore."

The room grew quiet. He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and silently thanked the Maker for that. Varric seemed content to relax in his chair and watch him pull his thoughts together. After some moments he leaned against the dwarven chair and blinked. The stone was cool against his arms and neck, and soothed his head a bit. "You said your brother had a project." He started. "Would there be any work? My sister and I have been looking.."

The dwarf sighed and shook his head, "It doesn't look that way. This is an expedition into the Deep Roads and Bartrand has been saying we have too many workers as it is." Carver leaned forward putting his forearms on the table. "The Deep Roads? You could hire us on as guards. We have experience fighting darkspawn! We made it out of the Blight."

Varric rubbed his jaw with his thumb and thought. "Bartrand is stubborn, and that wouldn't change his mind. Though, there is one thing you could do.." He nodded to himself.

Carver was about to ask, but turned his head. It was Norah, looking tired and still fuming over the brawl. She set a cup in front of Varric, who kindly thanked her and gave her a few coppers. When she set down the cup in front of him, he remembered seeing her break a mug over some fool's head. He had to stifle a grin at that. He wasn't sure if he was successful judging from the slight glare she gave him before leaving.

Varric moved his cup to his right and got comfortable in his chair before continuing. "Bartrand has enough workers and guards and won't take on any more, but I have an idea for you to get in on this expedition. You could become an investor! The profits would be split between your family, Bartrand, and myself. There would be more than enough to set you up for life. No more worrying about the templars."

He looked at the dwarf as if he had lost his mind. "Invest in the expedition? With what? We need work because we don't have any money." His objections were dismissed with a way by Varric. "Kirkwall is swimming with work if you have connections. You helped me out down there, so I'm willing to help you out. I can help you find work, and then you can invest fifty sovereigns into the expedition. We'll all come out rich, as sure as the dimple on Andraste's ass."

Carver leaned back against the chair, at a loss for words. He frowned, "What makes you so certain that there's riches in the Deep Roads?" That caused Varric to grin and tap his forehead. "We've got a map for down there, that leads all the way down to an old abandoned thaig. An entire city! This is the perfect time. After a Blight the Deep Roads are almost entirely empty. We go down there, get the riches, and come back. No problem."

He rubbed his eyelids and sighed. He wanted to say no, there was just too many chances. But they needed any job they could find, and if Varric could help them find work they would be better off in the short-term at least.

"Alright. We'll raise the money if you can help us, and we'll invest in the expedition." "Fantastic!" Varric smiled and relaxed in his chair. "Don't worry. I 'll take care of you, Junior."

Eying the wine cup first, he lifted it up and took a sip. It was horrible, but it was better than piss.


	3. Healing and Salvation

Bethany

The elevator creaked and squeaked as their descent continued into the depths of Kirkwall. Bethany was beginning to see fires parts of shacks scattered below now that the shaft was opening into the top of this level. Darktown was still very dark. Which was good, otherwise the city of Kirkwall would have to think of some other wonderfully imaginative name. Shadytown would probably be the new name. She was sure that name was likely already being used by some other city with highly original names for it's sections. It sounded a great deal friendlier than Darktown at any rate. She had to giggle a bit at that idea, causing Carver to glare at her from the corner of his eyes. He had stood to her right, away from Aveline, Varric, and herself. Of course he would, being the broody one. She ignored him. He wasn't about to ruin her good mood today. Ever since they had met Varric their luck had turned for the better. Remarkably better. They had been able to find work almost immediately, and Aveline helped with odd jobs. The Hawkes hadn't had to go hungry in three weeks thanks to the Amazing Varric. He was a pleasure to be around. It was hard to resist his friendly manner, despite some suspicion on her part when they had first met that he was helping them out of pity. He had even taken to calling her by a nickname, Sunshine. Carver was still wary of him, but that was just in his nature.

He seemed to even be a bit harsh with Aveline. She was relieved that Aveline had just accepted it as his normal behavior. The guardsman was taking it that Carver was treating her like family now, which was both irritating him, and leaving him confused and at a loss for words at times. The whole thing was absolutely wonderful to Bethany, and now she had taken to inviting Aveline and Varric to supper once a week. They didn't always accept the offer, but she couldn't blame them. Their home wasn't the cleanest or the nicest. The look on Carver's face when they did come over was more than enough to keep asking.

Varric had joined them last night however. Afterwards they discussed the business of the expedition into the Deep Roads. It was an exciting idea, but she had been worrying about the idea of putting so much gold into the venture. Varric was confident enough to ease Bethany's misgivings. He had assured her that the Hawkes would not only, with his help, have money left over after the investment, but that the expedition was practically a guaranteed success. Apparently Varric's older brother Bartrand was an even worse stickler for details than Carver was. Bethany looked to her right to her trusty dwarven friend. He was whistling while tapping his foot to a beat. The dwarf noticed her watching him and flashed her a grin. Varric had a fantastic smile that was infectious, and she found herself easily returning it.

However there was one more wrinkle to their scheme of going into the deep and coming out rich as Orlesian silk merchants: they didn't have a map. Which was something Varric had neglected to tell Carver about when he was initially convinced of the idea. Fortunately they didn't have to search or travel far. A Grey Warden by the name of Anders had a map of possible entrances into the deep. He had set himself up in Darktown with a clinic, healing refugees from Ferelden. When the elevator landed on the dirt floor of the level, kicking up dust, Bethany looked around as they walked off the elevator. She could understand why a mage would live down here, though she was sure this wouldn't be her first choice. At least the templars didn't come into Darktown often, and if they did they probably had horrible luck finding anything at all.

Everything down here looked like it was covered in layers of filth. That was another thing about Darktown that hadn't changed. Bethany began to feel grateful that at least Gamlen had a home for the family to stay in when they came to Kirkwall. Many of her countrymen didn't have the luxury, and here they stayed, trying to eke out a living as best they could. Even with Gamlen's home, it was possible she and Carver would have had to move down here if they had continued to not find any work. Either out of pity or out of self-interest, Varric may have saved her family. He spoke up, "As much as the Merchants Guild talk about the glory of living below the surface, you never find any of them living down here. I bet this is just as dirty and dark as Orzammar." Bethany was frowning as she looked around them as they walked further into Darktown proper. "I can't imagine anyone choosing to live here if they had other options. It's dreadful." A few steps ahead, Carver turned to look at his sister. "I was hoping we wouldn't have to come down here again after our work with Athenril was up."

Aveline came up to her side, she was looking troubled by the conditions down here too it seemed. "This has to be the worst part of Kirkwall. Maybe if the Guard would come down here more often.." Varric snorted, "Doubt it. Darktown has always been this way. The Coterie is strong down here." Aveline just frowned deeper at that. There wasn't much to say to that truth. Any guards that did patrols in Darktown may not come back up.

It was a scary thought, coming down into the darkness only to be dragged further into it's depths, never to see the sun again. She thought of the dangers that may lurk in wait for them in the Deep Roads, plagued by the Darkspawn. Creatures steeped in evil and darkness that took the life out of her eldest sibling. The family still hadn't recovered from their loss, and she wasn't sure if they ever would.

"Let's find the Grey Warden and get out of here. Quicker the better.", she said and sped up her pace, matching Carver's strides. Varric seconded that and she could hear his quick steps and the soft scrape of Aveline's boots keeping up.

They made their way through a series of paths towards the eastern side of Darktown, where there were wide windows that opened into the passage into Kirkwall. The longer she was down here, the more anxious she was becoming. She welcomed the sight of some light and fresh air, even if it was for a moment. A rather unhealthy looking fog covered the entirety of the floor, making her worry about possibly stepping in something.. or someone. She wasn't sure it would make much of a difference down here. Anyone who she could see either gave her looks of caution, or eying her in ways that made her feel happy she had others with her. These were a people used to being kicked and stepped on by the better-off in Kirkwall, and had to fight for everything they had.

When Athenril had given them some history on what Darktown used to be, she had shuddered. There was no telling how many slaves had died down here when this level was a mine. Kirkwall was a city built on magic and the bones of slaves. At least on the surface it was easier to pretend it wasn't so. She had to wonder what it was like for the mages in the Circle. Every day seeing those statues in the Gallows, a constant reminder of the horrible things magic was capable of. It wasn't a surprise the templars hadn't removed them.

A breeze pushed through the large windows carved in the eastern wall of Darktown, pushing away the fog that was clinging to the ground. Bethany quickened her pace, half-running to the windows. She could feel her mood lifting once she reached the windows and basked in the sunshine made it's way down the black cliffs. This was a surprisingly good view, she leaned forward to get a better look out of it. Far below as the channel they had passed through when they first entered Kirkwall, the boats below were so small from this height that it seemed they were toys. Bethany felt a speck on her nose, and when she attempted to brush it off she could feel it smear across the bridge. Looking at her finger, she realized it was ash. It was hard to miss now, drifting down softly like dirty snow. The ash and some of the fumes from the factories on the top of the cliffs caused the air to reek, but it was still fresher at these windows than it was further back into Darktown. To her right and left on both sides of the black cliffs that framed the entrance to the city where the large bronze statues of slaves, sobbing quietly into their hands as the wind and rain beat at them year after year. Yet another decoration by the Tevinter magisters designed to break the will of slaves before they even set foot into the city.

"I wish Mother had come from a city a bit more cheerful. This wasn't a very heartwarming sight when we fled here.", the mage said. She closed her eyes, trying to forget about the feelings those statues instilled in her, and instead enjoy the sunshine on her face for these precious moments. From the wall to her right, Varric chuckled. "Trust me Sunshine, if they got rid of those statues then Kirkwall would lose it's theme. City of Chains and Tevinter Statues really brings in the tourists, I hear." Somehow she doubted that, but his humor was appreciated.

She heard Aveline turn. Her voice low and cautious, "We should keep moving if we're going to find the healer." Bethany turned, and saw Aveline a few steps ahead of her, her shadow engulfing three men further away. Carver had already been watching them, his body tense and ready to unsheathe his sword. She frowned, "Why is there always someone that wants to try to fight us?" Her brother shrugged. "If they didn't, we may get rusty and bored."

"Can't have the trusty heroes standing around contemplating their navels when there's adventure afoot!", said Varric in the voice he used when telling adventure stories at the Hanged Man or after supper. Until then he had just been leaning against his window, relaxed and unconcerned about the other men. He now rolled his shoulders and walked past her, giving her a pat on the arm. "They're Cotiere, probably waiting for more guys before they try to jump us. We're almost at the Clinic." He was so relaxed and confident that Bethany felt no choice but to follow him, after one last wary glance at the thugs. Carver followed after, with Aveline pausing to give the men one last look of warning before hurrying after. Varric was right, as always it seemed. Within two minutes they found themselves in front of two doors, a lit lantern hanging between them.

"This is must be the place", Bethany said. Her brother pushed a door open and went in first. She followed him inside.

The sick and the wounded were all around. Weak sunlight streamed through curtained windows on the eastern wall, flames burning in mounted braziers on the pillars and walls. The room was warm, almost uncomfortably warm from the pack of patients inside. Beds and stretchers were set against the walls and beside the pillars, inhabited by the resting and the dying. Elves, Dwarves, Humans all were here. Some waiting for the healer's attention, others with their loved ones at their beds. She could hear soft voices all around her; voices in conversation, muffled sobs of loss, and thankful prayers. Magic was in the air, oblivious to the others around her. It was the gentle pulse that she associated with healing magic, but deeper and more powerful than what she was capable of. Drawn towards it, Bethany made her way through the crowd waiting for the healer.

A child lay on operating table. Blood stained the table, from what Bethany assumed were previous patients. There hadn't been enough time to even clean it before the healer began with the boy. She could feel her heart breaking; Bethany had never realized how utterly desperate the other refugees were, and how hard life was for the people of Darktown. On the table the boy's breathing was slow and labored, his mother clutching his left hand with tears dropping onto his shoulder. By her side stood his father, who was trying to maintain his composure despite his worry. The Warden was powerful, used to healing others, and confident in his abilities. The stream of healing energy passed through his hands smoothly and without fail into the boy. She couldn't help but be reminded of her brother and father, both powerful mages that fully embraced their gift.

He was handsome, despite how haggard he appeared. The unshaven look somehow highlighted lines around his mouth from smiling. His hair seemed similar to Varric's: A golden color that reminded her of harvests in Lothering. He wore fur-lined robes, dirty and well-worn from travel. It made her feel self-conscious as she looked down at herself, remembering her own new clothing. Carver was at her side now in his own new suit of leather armor. He had a serious look to him, as usual, now colored by suspicion. Whether it was of the fact the healer was a mage or a Warden, Bethany wasn't sure.

A weak cough brought her eyes back to the table ahead. The healer was leaning forward onto the table, his hands bracing himself. His muscles were shaking from exertion and sweat dripped from his brow. The boy began a short coughing fit, his eyes flying open while he gasped for air. The mother let out a cry of joy and hugged her child tight, crushing him against her chest. Bethany couldn't help herself from smiling, glad to see a happy ending. The father was thanking the healer profusely, before hurrying over to his family and helping them through the crowd. Carver took two steps forward, keeping a safe distance from the table. She went to stand at his side, clearing her throat while she thought of a way to introduce themselves.

The Warden suddenly moved away from the table, his eyes open and watching them as he grabbed his staff. "You come into my clinic, armed and armored, what do you want here?", he said, taking on a defensive posture. Bethany cast a quick look at her brother. He was tense and ready to spring, but hadn't moved. She raised her hands in the air and tried to smile despite her nerves. "My name is Bethany Hawke. This is my brother, Carver. We've come for help." His look became skeptical, but he began to relax. "I am Anders. You aren't wounded… what do you want with me?" Carver answered for her, "The Deep Roads. You were a Warden, right?" Anders seemed to have a minor shudder at the mention, and set his staff back against the pillar by his table. He turned back towards them, "If the Wardens sent you, I'm not going," the healer thought for a moment before adding, "I doubt they did. If the Wardens want me back, I'm sure the Warden-Commander would have come in person to drag me back to Amaranthine."

Bethany blinked, not sure what she could say to that. "We're part of an expedition into the Deep Roads. Would you know the way?", Varric said. He was quite good at controlling conversations, she noticed. It must be from all the practice of story telling. Anders eased himself into a chair to right of his operating table. From what Bethany could tell, he hadn't slept well in some time. He also seemed drained, as if he were working magic far more than he was used too. "The Deep Roads.. If I had my way, I'd never go down there again. Ser-Pounce-a-lot wasn't fond of it either." Carver raised an eyebrow, "..Ser-Pounce-a-lot?" Anders shrugged, "He was my cat. A gift from the Wardens in happier times." She had to giggle at the name, "He sounds very cute! The other mage gave her a smile, tired and tinged with sadness. "He was. I had to leave him behind in Ferelden. Poor Ser-Pounce-a-lot…

"I do have a map to the blighted Deep Roads, and I'm willing to help you if you can help me first. There's a mage that I was attempting to free, Karl, but the templars found out somehow. If you can help me get him safely away from them, the maps are yours." She felt a chill run down her spine, templars had always been boogiemen for her family, it would be mad to risk bringing down their wrath. "You have a good cause, but-", she began. "You're daft if you think we'll agree to that! We aren't giving the templars more reason to hunt us.", Carver interjected. It was blunter than she would have said, but Bethany was relieved that she wasn't the only one concerned.

Anders frowned, suddenly angry and stood up, "If the templars attack, then it must have become illegal for mages to have friends, or any life outside the circle! With or without you, I will free Karl." Carver shook his head, "We have enough problems at it is! I'd rather deal with darkspawn than templars. We can find another way through the Deep Roads." He turned to walk away, while she hesitated. Varric was in Carver's path, a hand raised to ask for a moment. "I agree, it's best to avoid the templars.. But you know as well as I do, the money from the expedition is the only way to protect your family from them. The templars are already asking questions, and if we do this job right, we won't hear any more about it and we'll have a way into the Deep Roads and away from them." She knew it was there only chance, and could tell Carver was mulling it over. He nodded at Varric and turned back towards Anders. The healer had been watching with his arms crossed over his chest. He lowered them and gave a slight smile. "I'll be waiting outside the Chantry tonight. Maker willing, the templars won't be around and Kirkwall will have one more free mage."

Hours later, she climbed the steps in Hightown towards the towering Chantry. She could see Anders now, waiting at the doorway as he said he would be. At the top of the steps, Bethany took the opportunity to look around. The last dying rays of the setting sun were cast past towers to shed weak light on the courtyard. It made for interesting lighting. The courtyard below was dark, light only by scattered torchlight. Torches had already been lit outside the door of the Chantry in preparation of dark. The Chantry didn't seem to need it yet, the highly polished golden door absorbed the sunlight, Andraste glowing with the holy fire of creation. Even out of direct light, the door was a beautiful work of art. Tonight it seemed to her to be more breathtaking than ever.

A hand on her shoulder lightly shook her away from her reverie. It was Aveline. She tilted his head over her shoulder, towards Anders who was waiting patiently for them. "Are you ready for this, Bethany?" She smiled and answered honestly, "No. But we don't have many options." The guardsman returned her smile and gave a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder before letting go. "Templars or no, we're all coming out of here together." Aveline was always the guardian, the pillar of support. She silently thanked the other woman as they walked over to Anders, who was now speaking with Carver and Varric. He nodded a greeting to her, "No templars so far. We're lucky that armor makes it easy to hear them." He let himself grin for a moment at that before becoming serious again. "Karl is inside. You'll be watching for any surprises. Are you ready?" He was answered with nods and consenting mutters from her brother. He took the lead and pushed open the door of the Chantry.

The Chantry was ominous, though she was expecting her nerves to make it so regardless of lighting. Behind her Carver closed the door, leaving them in shadows. Anders went ahead, causing her to silently reprimanded herself for her nerves and follow after him, looking around the room cautiously. It was quiet, deathly quiet. Surely if there were any templars hiding, they would have to make some sound. However the most intimidating objects so far were her nerves and the giant statue of the Maker, at least she assumed it was the Maker.. Was it even possible to make a statue of a god? It could just be another statue of Andraste for all she knew, not being able to get a good look at it. Wondering about that helped keep her mind off of any stealth templars hiding in the shadows.

Anders led her and the others onto the second floor of the Chantry, and towards some of the area reserved for pilgrims to rest. At least that's what she assumed the beds were for, Bethany wasn't sure. Being an apostate meant she couldn't spend as much time in nice Chantries as others do. Her mind went back to the task at hand when she spotted a man in front of the fireplace. As there had been no one else so far, she assumed. Anders seemed to recognize him, hurrying over and speaking in a low voice. She looked around while making her way to a respectful distance from Anders, still seeing no templars. It was possible they might get out of the Chantry without any templars at all, which seemed too good to be true.

"No!", Anders cried. Bethany turned to see what was wrong. The mage, Karl, had a brand on his forehead. She crinkled her brow, focusing on it, not sure what it was. "I am at peace now, Anders. All the fear and anger is gone from me now.", he said in a dull monotone. His voice filled her with dawning horror when she realized what he had become, Tranquil. She had heard stories, rumors, but had always assumed it was a story to scare mages into complacency. To be rid of all emotion, all dreams.. It was too much to comprehend. It was only when she heard the sound of swords being unsheathe that she turned to see Carver and Aveline moving to guard her. Templars had arrived.

Anders screamed, filled with primal rage. Putting her staff before her, she looked over her shoulder to see if he was alright. Her words died in her throat as she saw the former warden cloaked in veins of light and black smoke lifting from his clothes. His eyes glowed blue, brighter and more powerful than anything she had felt before. She could feel a trembling in her bones, magic calling to magic. It felt like Anders had brought the Fade itself into the waking world. Unbridled fury and power seemed to stream from him as he yelled in a voice not his own, "Templar dogs! There will be Justice for the mages, you will take no more!"

The templars raised a cry in answer and charged, being met with steel on steel from Aveline and her brother. Bethany could hear the sound of Bianca firing, but didn't see Varric. Trying to push the chaos around her out of her mind, she focused her mind on the chill she still felt from the things she had seen. Bringing it forward and channeling it through her staff, the air shimmered and froze, suddenly flying away from her and splashing against a charging templar. The sudden chill on his armor slowed the templar down, which her brother took advantage of. With a scream of fury and exertion, Carver brought his large two-handed blade down on the templar's neck, severing it and sending the ice-coated remains tumbling to the floor. He turned and leaped into the fray, assisting Aveline with the templars she was currently holding off, matching blows with shield and sword. Able to more easily focus on her next spell now, Bethany again focused on an attack she had recently taught herself. Another templar was charging her now, sword raised high in the air with his left hand reaching for her. She felt the cold gather again, spreading out around her and she prepared to send it forward into a cone. She pushed the energy outward, willing it into existence, only for it to fizzle and die before it could form. The templar coming down on her, she only had a moment to realize he was powerful enough to put a block on her powers. His blade swung down towards her, with only pain and darkness following.

Opening her eyes was painful. The sun too bright, making her head hurt more. She could hear a groan before she realized it was her own. Bethany tried to push herself up with one arm while she shaded her eyes another so she could attempt to open her eyes again. "Easy there. You don't want to get up too quickly, trust me. I've had my share of templar-induced head injuries," a voice quipped, gently pushing her back down. Footsteps went away from her, and cooling shade replaced the burning light on her eyelids, letting her blink them open. From what she could immediately tell, it was too dirty to be the Circle dungeons. "Did we win?", she said weakly.

Footsteps returned, and a chair scraped next to her bed. She turned her head to see it was Anders who had been looking after her. He put on a weak smile and handed her a cup of water. "I'm not sure. Karl is.. dead.", he paused. "He was made Tranquil.. I couldn't leave him like that." She worked through it, her thinking a bit muddled, as she took a gulp of water. It eased some pain that had built in her chest, most likely from breathing in too much Darktown dust. "I wouldn't want to be left like that either. It was horrible.." She wasn't sure what else to say about that, aside from an added "I'm sorry about what happened."

They were both silent for a long minute before Anders cleared his throat. "Your brother is outside. Not the friendliest, but he's protective. I've already given your friend Varric the Warden maps, as promised. Your red-headed friend, is fine also. After checking on you see went back to the Keep, I think." She could feel him watching her, "Does your head still hurt?" Bethany nodded, rubbing her forehead. "I suppose I should be thankful it was the blunt side of the blade that hit." He muttered something under his breath in answer, putting his hand over hers on her head. It was surprisingly soft, gentle. Despite being a mage and a healer, it was surprising for a warden to have gentle hands. Magic formed through his hand, passing through hers and entering her body. She remembered being a child, scraped knees and wet eyes, with her father comforting her and healing her wounds.

The soothing energy dissipated, and the other mage removed his hand from hers. "Any better?", he asked. She rubbed her forehead again and put her hand down. "Much. Thank you, Anders." She was able to push herself into a sitting position. There was more silence between them now, before she gathered her thoughts. "What happened before?", she asked. "You.. changed. I didn't just see it, I could feel it. You were frightening." He looked up to her, then looked away. "When I was a Warden, I met a Spirit. A Spirit of Justice. We became friends… despite his nagging. He was trapped in the body of a dead Grey Warden, not able to go back into the Fade. He was forced out of that body eventually, and I agreed to let him join with me."

Bethany's eyebrows raised, surprised. "A.. spirit is inside you? Like an abomination?" Anders turned back towards her, his expression pained. "No, nothing like that. He and I are one now, our thoughts the same. But.. something went wrong. My own repressed anger at the Circle. Justice thought he could overcome it. Instead it slowly corrupted him. He isn't the friend I knew anymore." He paused, "And when I see templars, it's harder to control Then he comes out."

It was all so unexpected. She had only heard about spirits making deals with some mages, but never possessing one or becoming part of a mage. She shook her head, processing some of it. "You tried to help a friend… I'm sorry it went so wrong." She went to him, and hugged the healer. It seemed the most she could do. "Is there anything I can do to help?", she asked. Another action that seemed pointless, but worth the effort. Anders relaxed and returned her hug tightly, relieved. "You're the first person I've ever told about this.. Thank you, Bethany."


End file.
